


All This Time You Were Chasing Dreams Without Knowing What You Wanted Them to Mean

by JackEPeace



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Canon Typical Violence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-04 22:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11564322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackEPeace/pseuds/JackEPeace
Summary: “No,” Fitz assures her. “I’m not worried.”Somehow, he worries if he admits it, if he brings it up then-No. Nothing will happen.Honestly. You’d think he’d never dealt with an Inhuman before.(Framework canon divergence AU)





	All This Time You Were Chasing Dreams Without Knowing What You Wanted Them to Mean

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of emotions about this pairing? 
> 
> Title from "Cycling Trivialities" by Jose Gonzalez

"If you're trying to intimidate me, it won't work."

Fitz smiles at his reflection in the two-way glass, smoothing down the front of his hair. "Pretty big words for someone in your position," he says dryly, straightening the lapels of his suit before turning around to face the woman in the room with him.

The Inhuman. He's not sure any other descriptor matters.

She's small and wiry, all sharp angles and edges. He's not the first one to have been in here with her today, so her lip is already bloody, a bruise blooming on her cheek. Her wrists are raw from pulling at the cuffs keeping her attached to the chair she's slumped in. Fitz tries to ignore the surge of annoyance he feels when looking at her. He hates not being the first one to attend to his subjects when they come to visit.

Fitz steps closer to her, circling the chair, studying her from all angles. Of course, she doesn't look like a monster, not with her short curly hair, her bright eyes, her sardonic smile. But, then again, they never do.

"You know who I am right?" Fitz asks, pulling out his cufflinks and slipping them into his pocket. He rolls up his sleeves as he steps in front of her once more.

The Inhuman smirks up at him. "No," she says breezily. "Should I?"

Fitz slaps her across the face, a sudden movement that snaps her head to the left and widens her eyes. "Don't lie to me," he says with a sigh, bored.

She blinks, her smirk momentarily chased off her face. Fitz walks over to the table, where her file waits for his perusal. He flips it open, studying her picture, the name beneath it: Raina.

"So, Raina," he says without looking over at her, "what makes you so special?"

Raina looks in his direction and he can see her cheek starting to redden. "You're The Doctor," she says dryly, "you tell me."

Fitz doesn't reply, flipping through the papers in her folder instead. Reports from months, weeks ago, discussing the potential of an Inhuman clairvoyant, one who could see into the future. The top page is a report from Ward, detailing how she'd behaved when she'd been brought in, the routine stuff that doesn't usually interest Fitz. But he can't help but skim Ward's hurried handwriting anyway, how Raina had been talking about one of their facilities to the south of the city, how it would fall within days.

"So," Fitz turns back to Raina, "you can see the future?"

Raina smiles at him, her teeth red. "So they tell me."

Fitz stands in front of her. "Should I play the lottery tonight?" He asks. "What pony should I bet on? My father loves to visit the track."

Raina tilts her head, considering. "You should tell him to take his money down there and shove it up his ass," she tells him. "And you can play my favorite number combination: fuck you."

Fitz laughs, shaking his head. "Not the most original thing I've heard but you get points for trying," he assures her. "Not feeling very talkative now? My agents said you wouldn't shut up when they brought you in." He holds up the folder for her to see. "Something about one of our facilities?"

Raina shrugs, remaining slumped in her chair. "Just thought you might want to know. Oh and your secretary is pregnant. It's a girl," she says. "I take my amusement where I can."

"Where do your powers come from, Raina?" Fitz asks her, his tone conversational and curious. "I've never seen one like you before."

"Same place you do, I guess," Raina replies in the same tone. "Hell. Right? Isn't that what your propaganda is always saying? That the Inhumans are demons, filth? Not to be trusted."

Fitz smirks. "Can it be considered propaganda if it's true?" He asks.

Raina smiles and he hates it: the curl of her lips, the blood on her teeth, the fire in her eyes. "I think you and I have different definitions of truth."

"Right, course," Fitz says with a nod. "Since you can see the future and all, right?"

Raina doesn't answer, she merely shrugs. As infuriating as her smile. "So what do you say, Doctor?" She says. "Am I going to live? Or are you just going to cut me up into tiny, little pieces?"

Fitz smiles at her. "Maybe you can see the future after all." He pats her cheek, before straightening and taking a step back. "Can you see that it'll all be over soon?"

Raina looks at him with an expression he's seen many times before on the faces of Inhumans just like her: pure hatred. Unadulterated loathing. It only makes him feel all the more certain that he's doing exactly what he's supposed to be doing. "It's never enough for you to just kill us, is it?" She asks, spiting the words out. "You have to study us too. Defile us. Ruin us."

Fitz only shrugs. "You don't have to worry, Raina," he tells her. "Your death won't be in vain. I can study you, find out what makes you work. And then that can help me figure out how to wipe out every last one of your pathetic species."

Raina's eyes suddenly grow wide and Fitz thinks that he's maybe, finally, got her afraid. Not that he needs to worry because she'll have plenty to be afraid of soon. But why wait?

But the expression passes quickly and her sudden, rigid tension leaves her body. And that smile is back. "You still want to know your future, Doctor?"

Fitz waves a hand. "I don't believe in destiny," he tells her, "just action."

Raina shrugs. "Well I'll tell you anyway. My gift to you," she assures him. "That woman you're always with, the one in charge of you and all of this, she won't be around much longer." She smiles, sincere rather than sarcastic. "That's one positive, I guess."

Fitz tenses, turning back to look at her. "What did you say?"

"Something terrible is going to happen to her," Raina says quietly, her eyes gleaming with a maniacal energy to match her smile. "Something horrible. Something she'll never recover from." She looks up at Fitz. "She's in danger. It's only a matter of time now."

Fitz hits her, this time with a closed fist instead of an open palm. Raina gasps, barely managing to swallow down a cry of pain. He moves closer to her, his hand around her neck, pushing her back into the chair. "Don't you dare talk about her again."

Raina laughs. "Good to know you can feel something after all, Doctor." She spits in his face but she stops laughing when he hits her again, so hard his knuckles sting when he moves back from her.

Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, Fitz wipes the blood off his cheeks, stepping out into the hallway. He looks at the two agents standing beside the door, waving a dismissive hand back toward the room. "Take care of it."

One of the agents hesitates, unsure. "Take her to the lab?"

"No." Fitz stops, turning back to the face the agent. He's young so he tries to temper his anger. "Take care of it."

The two agents hurry into the room, hopefully understanding his point. Or maybe they realize that it would be a terrible idea to ask him to repeat himself a third time.

* * *

 

Ophelia rests a hand against his check when he moves close enough to kiss her but she doesn't close the distance between them, doesn't kiss him. Fitz looks at her, curious, to find that she's studying him in much the same way. "What's wrong?"

Fitz can't help but smile slightly, shaking his head. He's only just walked in the door, hasn't said more than her name, and already she's asking him this. "Nothing," Fitz assures her, taking her hand off his cheek and holding it between his own. He kisses her fingers, smiling at her. "Nothing is wrong."

Ophelia doesn't seem convinced. "You look like you're worried about something," she tells him. "Here." She brushes her other hand across his forehead. "Here is where you always show that you're worried."

Laughing, Fitz puts his other hand on her hip. "Well, there's no fooling you, is there?"

"So you are worried about something?" Ophelia presses, a counter to his comment.

"No," Fitz assures her, kissing her finally, something he's wanted to do since the mess with the Inhuman. Since before then, if he's being honest. "I'm not worried."

Somehow, he worries if he admits it, if he brings it up then-

No. Nothing will happen.

Honestly. You'd think he'd never dealt with an Inhuman before.

Fitz kisses Ophelia once more before finally stepping away from her, debating pouring himself a glass of scotch. He resists the urge, going to the pantry instead to retrieve the candy he keeps hidden there; chocolate, a vice preferable to alcohol. "They brought in a new Inhuman today," he says when his back is to her.

"Oh?" Ophelia says and Fitz can feel her watching him.

"Raina was her name," Fitz says as he turns back to face her, opening the bag and shaking some of the pieces into his hand. He sorts out the blue ones, Ophelia's favorite.

Ophelia considers and then shrugs. "I don't know that one."

Fitz smirks, shaking his head. "I wouldn't expect that you would," he tells her. "Said she could see the future."

Ophelia lifts her eyebrows. "You don't believe her." It's not a question.

"No," Fitz says simply, tossing one of the chocolate pieces into his mouth.

"Someone who can control electricity, you believe," Ophelia says with a smirk. "But someone who can predict the future is just too much?"

Fitz waves a hand. "It doesn't matter anyway," he tells her. "She's been taken care of." He hands Ophelia the trio of blue candies in his hand and she smiles at him as she takes them. "She won't be seeing anything anymore."

* * *

 

Fitz runs his fingers through Ophelia's hair absently, staring up at the ceiling. The penthouse is dark aside from what little light slips past the curtains and Ophelia is asleep against his chest, her breathing steady and deep. Untroubled.

She always sleeps that way and he's always envied her for it.

Often he finds himself thinking about work, all the things that need to be taken care of, the people who need to be dealt with, the projects he still has on his plate. Including the special project, the one he's been working on just for her.

Unbidden, Fitz finds himself thinking about the Inhuman from earlier today, what she'd said about Ophelia. _It's only a matter of time now_.

Fitz tightens his grip on her, shaking the words out of his mind. It doesn't matter, none of that matters. That's the last thing he needs to spend his time thinking about; there are so many other, more pressing issues to attend to. One dead Inhuman means nothing.

Fitz presses his lips to the top of Ophelia's head, closing his eyes. "I love you," he tells her. But she doesn't so much as stir.

* * *

 

Three days later, Fitz gets word that one of their facilities, south of the city, is gone. Fallen to the Resistance. The place is nothing but rubble now, ruined. He doesn't believe it until he sees it for himself, standing back a safe distance, studying the smoking wreckage.

"No survivors, sir," one of the agents tells him. "Nothing salvageable at all."

"I can see that, thank you," Fitz says tersely. He turns back toward the car, smoothing down his hair. "Find the people responsible for this."

In the back of the car, Fitz can't help but study the city outside the window, thinking about the Inhuman from days before. Raina. She'd said something about one of their facilities… _this_ facility. How it would fall within days.

But, she could have easily been part of the Resistance, making a prediction about something she'd had insight on and hoping the plan would be carried out. A final joke after she was dead and gone.

Fitz shakes his head, disgusted with himself. Listening to charlatans, putting stock in fortune telling. What's gotten into him?

* * *

 

Ophelia is resting comfortably on his lap as they sit on the couch, neither of them really watching Bakshi's report on the TV across from them. Ophelia is typing out an e-mail on her tablet and Fitz is finding it difficult to concentrate on his own work, not just because he has her so close but because he likes to watch her work, the steadfast look of concentration on her face, the way she seems to focus on nothing else for that moment.

Fitz puts aside the plans he'd been reviewing for Project Looking Glass and brushes her hair off her shoulder, pressing his lips to her skin. "Do you think it's possible to see into the future?"

He means for it to be casual, conversational. The type of thing two people might discuss while spending a quiet night at home. But Fitz is surprised to hear that his tone isn't causal at all; it's almost concerned.

Ophelia lowers her tablet to look at him. "Is that about that Inhuman from the other day?"

Fitz nods, giving her a sheepish smile. "I…it's ridiculous to keep thinking about, isn't it?" He asks, shaking his head. "I wouldn't give her a second thought. Except something she'd said…it could be coincidence."

"All of this is possible," Ophelia says, the sweep of her hand encompassing the penthouse and the city beyond the windows. "And you see Inhumans every day with superhuman abilities. I don't think glimpses of the future are too far-fetched, considering."

Fitz regrets bringing up the topic at all. He regrets mentioning it to her, hearing her say the words. Because now he can't help but wonder. And think.

And worry.

Ophelia taps her finger to the center of his forehead again, against his furrowed brow. "You're worried."

Fitz kisses her rather than answering.

* * *

 

Two days later, Fitz is startled from his work by a gentle knock on his office door. He sighs, setting the progress reports aside and lifting his head. "Yes."

His secretary, Elizabeth or Annabeth or somethingBeth, he thinks, steps into the room. She's holding a coffee mug in her hands and she looks afraid, just like she always does. "Tea, sir," she says as she steps closer to the desk. "And I was also, I mean…I was hoping-"

Fitz narrows his eyes. "Speak," he says shortly. "I don't have all day to figure out what you want to say."

She nods quickly. "I…I just wanted to tell you that I'm pregnant and I just found out but it won't affect my work and-"

"What?" Fitz says, feeling his heart quicken in his chest. He looks at her, pale and practically trembling in front of him, but showing no visible signs of being pregnant. "You're what?"

The secretary swallows. "Pregnant?" She clears her throat. "I'm pregnant, Doctor Fitz. Sir."

Fitz forces himself to exhale slowly, forces his shoulders to relax, forces any thoughts of that Inhuman from his mind. "Uh, yeah," he says instead, silencing whatever secretary Beth is telling him. "Whatever you need. Uh, congratulations."

It's good that she hurries out of his office before he has to throw her out but Fitz doesn't feel much better once she's gone.

It's coincidence, he knows this. There's no way that this Inhuman could possibly know anything about what's going to happen in the future…

The facility. The pregnancy. Two things she'd said she'd seen that have since come true.

And the third, her prediction about Ophelia. _Something terrible. It's only a matter of time_.

Fitz is on his feet, heading for the door before he even realizes what he's doing. Where is he going? Is he planning on digging up a dead Inhuman and demanding that she explain herself? He curses himself, shaking his head. If only he'd kept her alive for a little while longer then maybe…maybe she could…

But it doesn't matter. What she saw doesn't matter. Nothing is going to happen to Ophelia.

He's going to make sure of it.

* * *

 

"Leopold, don't be ridiculous," Ophelia tells him the following morning, when he informs her that he's pulling some of his agents off duty to serve as bodyguards. For her. "Nothing is going to happen to me, not here."

"I'm not allowed to worry about you?" Fitz questions and he hopes that he sounds as unconcerned as he wishes that he truly was. "There's nothing wrong with making sure that you're protected. You are the head of Hydra, after all."

Ophelia gives him a look. "And you? Are you giving yourself some of these bodyguards too?"

Fitz makes a face. "No one is interested in me," he tells her. "I'll be fine."

Ophelia rolls her eyes. "So will I."

He thinks about Raina's words, her proclamation that something terrible was coming. For Ophelia. For this woman standing in a robe in front of him in the kitchen, green streaks in her hair and an amused smile on her face.

"Please?" Fitz asks softly. "For me? Just for a while."

Ophelia kisses him and he considers the discussion closed.

* * *

 

"Tell me more about this Subversive," Fitz says as he leads the agents into his office. "Why haven't you managed to locate it yet?"

"We're trying, sir," the agent tells him quickly. "We've already had several agents killed and-"

"No more excuses," Fitz snarls, pushing the agent away from him. "Just get it done."

They leave him in peace to finish his walk to Ophelia's office. He doesn't visit her often, not here, not when he can't afford to be distracted by her very presence. But he knows the way well and Fitz moves toward her on autopilot, thinking over the past several days. A week ago his concerns had been the Inhumans, studying them and learning more about how to eradicate them. He'd been concerned with incompetence, paperwork and reports and Project Looking Glass.

And now he's concerned about Ophelia. Protecting Ophelia. He hasn't been able to stop thinking about Raina's words, her gleeful prediction of something terrible happening to Ophelia. He'd felt better two days ago, when he'd assigned the extra security detail to be with her until he told them otherwise. And then the arrival of the Subversive and…he can't help but worry. And wonder. If there's somehow a connection between this sudden new threat and the prediction the Inhuman had made.

Fitz opens the door to Ophelia's office, frowning when he sees her talking to two underlings. They turn at the sound of the door and he points a finger at them. "Out."

They don't bother to check with Ophelia before gathering their things and hurrying past him. Fitz scowls at her. "Where's your security detail?"

Ophelia gives him a patient look. "I hardly think they need to stand in my office-"

"The Subversive is still out there," Fitz interrupts, standing across from her. "Agents have died. She has help inside Hydra. We can't afford to be careless with _your safety_ and-"

"Leopold," Ophelia says gently, getting to her feet. She takes his face in her hands and he falls silent, exhaling slowly. "Please stop," she says softly. "We've talked about this already. You don't need to worry about me or the Subversive or anything aside from your work."

Fitz scoffs, shaking his head. "Not worry about you?" He mutters. "What else matters?"

Ophelia kisses him, slipping a hand through her hair and she curls her fingers around the nape of his neck. "You want to protect me," she says against his lips.

Fitz nods. "I love you, Ophelia."

Her grip on him tightens and he wishes the desk wasn't between them. "Finish your work," Ophelia tells him. "Soon this world won't matter. Nothing here matters. But us."

Fitz can only kiss her, wishing he never had to worry about doing anything else.

* * *

 

"Sir." Fitz looks up from the plans on his screen, waving a hand and causing them to blink out from view. There's a trio of agents standing in his office but only one moving close to him, slowly and carefully, like he's attempting to approach a wild animal. "I…I need to…there's something-"

Fitz pinches the bridge of his nose. "Idiot. Are all of you idiots?" He mutters, shaking his head. "Speak." He snaps his fingers.

The agent quickly stands up straighter. "It's Madame Hydra, sir," he blurts out. "Something's happened. Something…it's not good."

* * *

 

"This is unacceptable." Fitz barely recognizes his own voice, how his tone is as thin as a razor's edge and just as sharp. He looks at the people standing around him and each and every one of them is useless.

Not a single person knows what's happening with Ophelia right now, what state she's in, what's going on behind the closed doors of the operating room. She's there, on the other side of the doors, and he's here.

Fitz tightens his jaw, reaching up to smooth his hair. "How did this happen?"

The nurse, the one who told him he couldn't just go bursting into the operating room while Ophelia was on the table, is still cowering, seemingly grateful to not be the focus of his anger. At least, not at the moment. Fitz looks to the men he'd assigned the protect Ophelia, two of whom had been with her when this had happened.

"It happened too quickly, sir," one of the men says, his voice miraculously calm and even. "There was nothing we could have done. The Inhuman attacked even as we were drawing our weapons."

Fitz tightens his hand into a fist and he has to fight down the urge to use it on the man in front of him. "Unacceptable," he says again. "Your sole duty was to protect her." He points to the doors. "Does it look like she's been protected?"

The men exchange a look and Fitz has to admire them for shaking their heads. "No, sir."

"Both of you, get out of my sight," Fitz tells them. "If I ever see either of you again, I'll kill the both of you."

There seems to be one order, at least, that they're capable of following.

"I want to see her," Fitz says flatly, turning his attention back to the nurse.

She shakes her head. "Sir, I can't-"

The doors swing open and the nurse practically trips over herself in her relief. Two doctors emerge and Fitz looks at the first, a man who smiles at him apologetically. "There's not much we can do for her now," he says. "We'll simply have to wait, see if she makes it through the next twenty-four hours and-"

Fitz ignores him. "May I see her."

The man shakes his head. "Unfortunately, I don't think now is-"

Fitz pulls his gun from the waistband of his pants, shooting the man in the chest without bothering to glance to see where the bullet hit. The nurse covers her mouth to stifle a scream and the second doctor, white-haired and portly, looks at his colleague on the floor. Fitz looks at the white-haired man instead. "Now may I see her."

The man pushes the door open for him.

Fitz walks into the room and once more his hands curl into fists. His jaw tightens and his chest aches. Seeing Ophelia there, still and motionless on the operating table makes him feel like someone has scooped something vital out of his chest, cleaving away bone and blood and leaving nothing behind.

Hours ago, she'd been in bed beside him, smiling at him as he'd twisted her hair around his finger, leaning in to kiss her.

Last night, he'd had her in his arms, her voice whispering in his ear as he'd moved inside her, promising to love her always, to protect her and-

Fitz grits his teeth, trying to slow his ragged breathing. He looks back toward the doorway, where the white-haired doctor and the watery-eyed nurse are watching him. "I want her home. Now."

* * *

 

She's been awake infrequently, motionless aside from her eyes, always watching him. She'd urged him not to worry, to keep working, to ensure that Project Looking Glass would be completed soon, that their secret project would be the way he could help her, could make all of this better again.

Project Looking Glass is nearly done. But Fitz doesn't feel better.

Fitz dismisses the nurses from their room, kneeling beside Ophelia once more. He doesn't want to hurt her but he can't resist reaching out, brushing her hair away from her face. Her beautiful face, now pale and marred by bruising.

Ophelia's eyes flutter open and she manages a smile, barely. "Leopold."

"Hey," Fitz says softly, trailing his fingers across her cheek. "Ophelia-" He can't finish, his throat suddenly tight, his voice wavering.

"Shhh, Leopold," Ophelia whispers and he nearly laughs at this, the fact that she's trying to make him feel better. "It'll be okay."

Fitz nods, taking her hand. "Yes," he assures her. "Project Looking Glass is almost done."

Ophelia smiles. "Good. I knew you could complete it."

Fitz nods again, trying to swallow around the knot in his throat. He draws a shaky breath, his eyes welling with tears. He ducks his head, hoping to hide them from her but he's pretty sure he gives himself away when the tears drop onto her fingers. "Ophelia," he whispers. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. This is all my fault."

Ophelia's fingers tighten around his, squeezing. "No, Leopold, it's not," she tells him. "None of this-"

"Yes, it is." Fitz shakes his head. "I knew you were in danger. I knew it. And I didn't do enough to stop it from happening. I didn't protect you." He lifts his head to look at her. "I couldn't protect you."

"Leopold-"

"This is my fault," Fitz tells her again, pressing his lips to her hand. "I'm sorry. Ophelia, I'm sorry-"

Ophelia squeezes his hand again. "This won't matter soon," she tells him. "This world isn't going to matter soon. Do you love me?"

Fitz laughs, the sound a short burst, more like a sob than anything. "I love you," he tells her, "more than anything."

"Good." Ophelia seems to exhale in relief, looking slightly more relaxed there against her pillows. "Then that's all that matters."

He closes his eyes, holding her hand to his cheek. He wishes it were that easy for him to believe that, that everything would turn out okay because he loved her. Unfortunately, he's having a hard time believing that.

After all, his love for her hasn't kept her safe so far.

But Fitz isn't going to point that out, doesn't want to take that certainty away from her. Instead he holds onto her tightly, as though that might somehow make a difference.

Briefly, he thinks about to the Inhuman. Raina. Had it been frustrating to see only parts of the future, scenes and moments without looking at the big picture? Though, Fitz figures he wouldn't turn down the opportunity to see another moment from his future, just to know what will happen next.

To see how his story with Ophelia ends.

Then again, he figures it doesn't matter. He's certain he already knows.


End file.
